“They have gone and done it again,” was my reply. “A handkerchief waved and something fell:” and I pointed to the lattice, now closed and looking hypocritically blank.
“Go, at once; pick it up and bring it here,” was his prompt direction; adding, “Nobody will take notice of you: I should be seen.”
Straight I went. After some little search, I found a folded paper, lodged on the lower branch of a shrub; I seized and brought it direct to Dr. John. This time, I believe not even Rosine saw me.
He instantly tore the billet into small pieces, without reading it. “It is not in the least her fault, you must remember,” he said, looking at me.
“Whose fault?” I asked. “Who is it?”
“You don’t yet know, then?”
“Not in the least.”
“Have you no guess?”
“None.”
“If I knew you better, I might be tempted to risk some confidence, and thus secure you as guardian over a most innocent and excellent, but somewhat inexperienced being.”